"Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love.
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